


I Waited Too Long

by RougueShadowWolf



Series: 15 Minutes [45]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dead Stiles Stilinski, Derek Loves Stiles, F/M, Jealous Malia, M/M, Malia Bashing, Murder, POV Derek Hale, Sad Derek, Stiles Loves Derek, i have no idea how to tag this, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 00:40:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3957955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RougueShadowWolf/pseuds/RougueShadowWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Returning home after running from the one thing bringing you back home had him fearful and worried about how welcomed he would be back, never fearing what he might find at his return. Never thinking he’d find a heart in a jar waiting for him on his own bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Waited Too Long

**Author's Note:**

> So here we are again suffering through another set of 15 minutes simply because I’m a sad idiot with either too much faith in things or simply not enough. So my friend let’s call her Friday asked for a story where Derek returns to BH after running for the hills, she also asked for this to be one of those fic where Stiles and Derek are in love with each other but are too dumb to take the step for it to bloom into something wonderful, she also asked for me to use Malia in this story and this is what happened.

 

Four weeks and three days ago Derek Hale’s world had changed, this changed had come in the form of a message left for himthis particular message was from one Stiles Stilinski who had for several months kept a one-sided relationship/conversation with him. Three days and four weeks ago had been the last time Derek had heard from Stiles, after nearly a year of running and living on the crumbs of Stiles good morning and good night wishes sent to his phone as well as the almost daily reports of life in Beacon Hills, these daily bombardments of information and the occasional picture or too were rarely responded too unless of course Stiles begged Derek to give him some sign of still being alive. Four weeks and three days ago Stiles sent him the one message Derek hadn’t been expecting to find waiting for him after he’d returned to the dingy motel he’d been staying in for nearly a week, he’d checked his phone expecting and knowing that Stiles would’ve sent him a goodnight wish or some silly piece of news, or just a bad joke, and he wasn’t surprised to find that there was indeed a message there waiting for his attention.

 

Derek’s heart had jumped up a notch or two when he heard Stiles voice after so many months of not hearing it, it wasn’t the usual upbeat one or the slightly tense or frustrated one he’d grown used too or the deliciously sarcastic one Derek remembered now with an air of fondness, Stiles voice was nervous and desperate and so very unfamiliar but none the less sweet to him.

 

He’d fled Beacon Hills in an attempt escape the agony of having to watch his cousin Malia sinking her claws further and deeper into the young man Derek had grown so very fond of, Derek hadn’t been strong enough to deal with the blooming relationship between Stiles and Malia or the way her scent had begun to replace Derek’s, he’d ran in order to avoid having to deal with his own feelings towards Stiles. 

 

_`Derek. Please call me.´_  hearing Stiles pleading for some contact had been enough to make both Derek and the beast in him to whimper and whine, the ache he’d felt in his heart was nearly as severe as the one he’d felt when Stiles had cried in front of him and Derek being unable to do anything to comfort Stiles.

 

_`I need to talk to you. Everything’s fine. No one is dead or dying. But I need you to call me Derek.´_

 

Derek had slipped down onto the motel bed and he held his breath as he listened to the nervous voice on the other end, Stiles seemed tired and for some strange reason lonely, and it really had bothered Derek to hear such loneliness in Stiles’ voice.

 

_`I miss you sourwolf.´_ the words had flooded him with the same familiar sense of hope and warmth, _`I’ll just continue calling you until you finally pick-up. So pick-up or just call me back Der.´_

 

Derek hadn’t called Stiles back and Stiles hadn’t called him back but on the same night while Derek had slept Stiles had sent him a message and that was the driving force for Derek’s sudden return to Beacon Hills.

 

_Derek I love you._

 

The confession of love had been what finally drove Derek to drive back to Beacon Hills, he didn’t call the younger male in fear of his courage breaking and because he wanted to see Stiles and hear the human confess or deny his love in person.And perhaps all Derek really wanted was to see Stiles because he’d missed the bright-eyed and clever-minded teenager.

 

Arriving at the Stilinski house in the early hours of Sunday morning Derek feels confident that Stiles is home after all Derek knew how Stiles preferred staying in bed for as long as possible on Sundays, he knew Stiles would stay in bed the entire day if possible.The sight ofthe familiar Jeep parked up the small driveway seemed confirmed what Derek already knew, Stiles is home and so while feeling nervously excited Derek parks his car across the street of the Stilinski house before hurrying around the house to where he’d find Stiles’ bedroom window. Derek climbs up the side of the house and then slips through the bedroom window which had been left ajar which was reasonable considering the warm summer night, each movement he made on his journey into the house and bedroom of the Sheriff’s son with the familiarity that came from doing something over and over again.

 

Derek knew something was off the moment he stepped inside Stiles’ bedroom, everything from its appearance and the smell of the room was all wrong.  Derek finds the bedroom horrifyingly empty room everything from Stiles to the bed and desk was gone, the wallpaper and all the posters and pictures had been hastily torn down. Derek could barely smell Stiles’ scent through all the chemicals used to clean and clear the room, the floor beneath his feet was covered with heavy sheets of plastic there were empty bottles of beer on the floor as well as tools that looked like they’d been thrown around the room during a moment of frustration or anger.

 

Before Derek can even come to terms with what he’s seeing, to figure out what it all means, there’s a loud crash from downstairs followed by loud angry cursing. Derek feels a little bit of hope trickling back into him and he makes his way out of the bedroom that had become so very unfamiliar to him.

 

The house reeked of alcohol and poor hygiene and it no longer carried the comforting scent of Stiles Stilinski, it was as if the boy had never lived there and the change terrifies him and yet he continues to make his way downstairs,and it becomes painfully evident that Stiles no longer lives there as the place had become a filthy mess there were urine stains on the carpet as well as poorly cleaned vomit ones too.Derek can barely stand to breathe as he walks into the living-room finding the Sheriff on his hands and knees in the middle of the messy floor, a bottle of Jack spilling out onto the floor by his hand.

 

`Where’s Stiles?´ Derek asks while his stomach twists for he fears what the answer will be, Derek knows Stiles would never allow his father to live in such filth even if he’d moved out.

 

The sheriff sits up unsteadily, body slumping over as if he’s too tired to even sit there are dark bags under the red-rimmed tired and sorrowful eyes.The miserable looking man was wearing a now ruined black suite, seeing the suite causes Derek to ask the all important question of the day.

 

 `Where’s Stiles? ´

 

`Gone.´ is all the sorrowful man says while struggling to stand, `He’s gone.´

 

`Where is he? ´ Derek asks voice a little bit higher and desperate the second time around. He’s reaching out to help the older Stilinski who’s incredibly unsteady on his feet. The stench of grief floods from the poor and haggard looking man.

 

`You want Stiles? ´ the sheriff asks voice raspy and raw.

 

`Yes.´ Derek nearly cries out with desperation, `Tell me where he is.´

 

`With his mother I hope.´ the sheriff answers and after that there is nothing Derek can do to stop the man from talking, from telling him how the man of the law had found his son torn to pieces upstairs in Stiles bedroom. The sheriff describes in painfully vivid details of what he’d found when walking into Stiles room, Stiles had been torn open, ripped apart, crushed and the blood that had once flowed through Stiles’ body had been sprayed on the walls as well as the furniture of the room. Derek learns about how Stiles’ arms and legs had been broken and how the hand holding his broken-down phone had been crushed to the point that it hadn’t even looked like a hand.

 

 `I just wanted to make sure he was alright, that he’d called you and talked to you.´ the sheriff says while sitting down heavily in his armchair and grabbing one of the beer bottles still left standing on the coffee table, `Stiles called you, right? That’s why you’re here. He told you he loved you, didn’t he? ´

 

`Wh-what?´ Derek croaked trying get a handle on what he’d learned, heard, while also trying not to break down completely by the knowledge that Stiles was dead, gone. Derek didn’t want to believe it, accept that he’d come back too late to see or talk to Stiles one last time.

 

`My son, he – he really did love you,´ the sheriff says while uncappingthebottle, and Derek’s heart just breaks a little bit more realizing that Stiles had to have really loved him if he’d told his father so.

 

 `God he was so miserable without you,´ the sheriff gives him an angry look, but it only lasts for as long as it takes for the man to bring the bottle up to his lips, ` he barely slept always worried about you. he was convinced you’d get yourself killed without him,´ a bitter poisonous laughter escaped the broken man as he continued to say, `Turns out the one who got himself killed was my boy.´

 

`I knew he didn’t love that Malia-girl, I’m not stupid or blind you know – I knew there was something between you two.´ the sheriff confesses after a moment of silence during which Derek had gotten back up on his feet no longer able to stand being inside the house that was suddenly so empty of Stiles.

 

`He didn’t deserve this.´ the sheriff says before emptying the beer bottle in his hand and swiftly replacing it with another, `I don’t deserve this.´

 

Derek’s opening the door when he hears the sheriff call out to him and Derek turns to look at the man who’s glaring at the broken TV, `She killed him after – Malia, your cousin, killed my son when he told her he didn’t love her – if you want to see her you’ll find her where you uncle is.´

 

`What? ´ Derek chokes out, bile burning up his throat.

 

`Malia killed him, the night he called you.´ Derek feels sick, and he leans against the door, listening to the grief-stricken man talking more to himself than Derek, `She ate his heart. I wish Scott had eaten her heart. But no, Scott’s not a murderer.´

 

Derek leaves the sad house vomiting in the well-trimmed shrubs of the neighbor next-door before returning to his car. He drives to his loft on a state of auto-pilot than anything else while he ponders whether or not he should try and contact Scott McCall just to ask where Stiles had been buried, but his courage isn’t great enough to do so not yet at least.

 

Derek drifts back to his loft the door opens with a screech and closes with a sad thud behind him, he’s assaulted by Stiles scent as if the boy had been there only days ago, the lack of heavy layers of dust and stale air tells him Stiles had been around cleaning the place for him, as if Stiles had believed that Derek would eventually return without a warning and the thought is enough to cause a tear to drop and with the last of Derek’s control begins to slip, his eyes flash when he picks up a Malia’s sent there as well but it’s even fainter than Stiles so he suspects she’d only been there for a brief passing before leaving. 

 

Anger and sadness raging a war within his chest has Derek walking, stomping into the feeble version of a kitchen, he needs a drink and unless Stiles had been stupid enough to drink from Peter’s expensive and laced bottle of scotch Derek hopes he too could drink away the pain Stiles death had brought him. He rips the kitchen cabinet door right off of its hinges and is assaulted by nasty flies that swarm him before escaping every which way leaving him face to face with something that has him screaming into his hand and dropping to his knees.

 

Sitting on the shelf was a jar, and in the jar soaking in clear liquid was a heart and written on the jar in what had to blood was the following words.

 

**Dear Cousin here’s Stiles Stilinski’s heart, it belongs to you now.**

 


End file.
